


This (Mission) Was My Life

by transdavenport



Series: Davenport Week Fics [2]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Institute of Planar Research and Exploration Era, Misunderstandings, Spoilers for Episode: e060-066 The Stolen Century Parts 1-7, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-09 03:56:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12268377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transdavenport/pseuds/transdavenport
Summary: Lucretia, in her research for the mission, finds shockingly large gaps in Captain Davenport's files. So she takes her questions right to the source.





	This (Mission) Was My Life

**Author's Note:**

> So this work was written (even later than the first one) for Day 2 of Davenport week over at davenportweek.tumblr.com. The theme was Early Life (which I considered any time before the mission)

Fear washed over Lucretia as she stared down at the stack of papers in front of her. The records that the Institute had of Davenport. Of her  _ captain _ . He had suggested that if she was to document this mission, she should have knowledge of where each member of the crew came from. So she had, for the sake of being thorough, gone through his records as well.

She went over the facts again:

  1. Captain Davenport joined the Institute for Planar Research and Exploration 43 years ago.
  2. All of his records from the past 22 years were verified without difficulty.
  3. Starting 23 years ago, records started to become anomalous. Upon conducting further research including reaching out to other archives and relevant parties, some records lead nowhere.
  4. Starting 31 years ago, there were almost no verifiable records. Nearly all of the records upon his application to the institute were unverified; those that did corroborate usually offered copied documents instead of originals versions to prove validity.



There had never been a reason to doubt his qualifications. Davenport was brilliant, she knew this. She had seen his technical skill and leadership qualities firsthand.

_ Should I take this to the Director?  _ She took a deep breath. She couldn’t jump to conclusions. This was her captain – someone the IPRE trusted to lead the first mission out of this planar system. Even  _ if _ his initial qualifications were falsified, he was still more than experienced enough from the years he spent at the Institute. 

Lucretia spent the night duplicating the files in question. If something went wrong or happened to them, she wanted to have proof of what she had found.

She knocked on Davenport’s door the next day, copies of the records tucked safely in her bag. It was relatively early, but she had seen him come in already. Hopefully he wasn’t busy.

“Come in,” came the muffled reply through the door. He sounded tired, and she hoped she had picked the right time to do this. But it was too late to turn back now, so she steadied herself and stepped inside.

Davenport was behind his desk, holding a standard-size mug of coffee that looked large in his hands. “Oh, hello, Lucretia,” he said, looking her over with sharp eyes. He obviously could tell that something was wrong, and when he spoke again, he sounded apprehensive. “Have a seat. What can I do for you?”

Lucretia took the closest seat and pulled her messenger bag into her lap. She began to leaf through the records, looking for the oldest one. “Well, I was going through the records– like you suggested.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw him nod. “And, to be thorough, I went through yours and mine as well.”

Davenport blinked, then looked at her with concern. “Was — did — is there something wrong with our records?”

“Not mine,” she said, looking him square in the eye. “Yours.”

Davenport recoiled, so slightly that she almost missed it. “Mine?” His expression shifted into something close to intrigue. He put down his mug. “Wrong in what way?”

“Inconsistent,” she replied as she pulled the first file out and placed it on the desk. “I was looking back through the crew’s files and whenever I encountered a particularly spectacular achievement, I reached out to other archives and organizations to corroborate and see if I could gain any new information.” 

“What did you find?” he asked, leaning in further.

Lucretia shook her head. “It’s not what I found, it’s what I didn’t find.” She pointed to the first file. “This is the record of you speaking at a top-ranking engineering academy 23 years ago. When I contacted the university, they said you weren’t the speaker that day.” She pulled another file from her bag. “Then another missing record, 25 years ago.” Another file. “And another.” Lucretia kept stacking files until there was a small pile on the desk and her bag was empty. She looked him square in the face and felt her hands tremble where they rested on the paper. “Davenport, prior to 30 years ago, almost none of your records are verifiable. The few times I did manage to confirm something, the organization in question was never able to provide me with original documentation.”

Davenport’s face was unreadable. She had known him for months now and while he was often stoic, he was rarely so completely expressionless. And he didn’t speak, just looked back at her.

She pulled in a deep breath and looked away. “Captain, I didn’t come here to make assumptions. Your competence is obvious. And–” She hesitated. She knew what she wanted to say next. And if those words were true, there was no need for hesitation. “I trust you. I don’t believe you would do something like this and if you did, you must have had a good reason to do so. But you have to know how… how this all looks.”

Davenport’s face softened. “Lucretia, I– thank you. For trusting me like this. Because despite how things look, everything in that record is true, even if it is technically incomplete. I have one more thing to add to it.” He pushed his chair back to access one of the lower drawers of his desk. Lucretia couldn’t see what he was doing, but she heard the shuffling of papers for several moments before he appeared again.

Without a word, he laid another file on the table. It was thin and unlabeled. She reached for it immediately, flipping it open and scanning through its contents. 

“Documentation of a name change,” she read aloud, feeling the beginnings of shame rise up in her. A name change would easily explain why his records were so inconsistent. She should’ve seen that possibility. And now she had come into his office asking for private information that was clearly kept off the record. She checked the date. “You changed your name 26 years ago?” The name under “Prior” was one she vaguely recognized as coming up several times during her tracking of his history. It was Gnomish– and, as she realized with a start, a strictly feminine name. She had brushed that name off as unrelated when the owner of it seemed to have almost nothing in common with Davenport.

She looked up at him, and he was smiling slightly. For a moment, Lucretia found herself lost for words.

So she went over the facts:

  1. Davenport changed his name 26 years ago.
  2. His prior name was associated with many of the unverified records.
  3. His prior name was a Gnomish name only given to women.



There was a conclusion to be reached, but she didn’t know how to approach it. This wouldn’t be jumping to conclusions, but it certainly felt like it.

“I’m sure by the look on your face that you have an idea of what that means,” he said, interrupting her thoughts. “If I’m being honest, I assumed you already knew. Almost everyone around here does. I sometimes forget that you’ve only been with us for a few months.”

“Davenport, I– I’m so sorry,” she finally managed. “I didn’t mean to pry into your life like that.”

He shook his head. “Well, we’re about to spend two months on a ship together. If you didn’t know that I was trans beforehand, you likely would’ve learned on the way. It’s not really a secret; it just hadn’t come up yet. Plus, several other members of our crew already know. As do the administration.”

“Still, it was unfair of me to come in here and demand–”

“Lucretia,” he cut her off gently. (Years later, she would recognize the look he gave her then as pride.) “You saw a problem. You assessed your options and dealt with it. Well done.” 

* * *

And a century later, when it came time to carefully pore over every ounce of knowledge about her voyage, she spent days agonizing over those records. The other transgender members of the crew had transitioned  _ before  _ the IPRE. They were comparatively easy to cut around. Davenport was more complicated. If she erased just their voyage and their time at the Institute, that was still nearly a third of Davenport’s life. He spoken to her once about how it had taken him nearly a decade to reach an understanding about who he was. If he forgot those years, he would forget that understanding. He wouldn’t be the person she knew. And she thought of the practicalities: Davenport would wake up to a changed body: one with a flat chest and a fairly impressive mustache. She couldn’t imagine the disorientation–the fear.

And so Lucretia made two decisions:

  1. She had to erase his whole life. It was better to remove the puzzle than leave him with pieces that did not connect. And it would be for a short time. He would understand when it was over.
  2. No matter how difficult it would be, Lucretia would not take their names.



**Author's Note:**

> I'm a trans man, and so Davenport being trans means a lot to me. I found his narrative arc relatable in ways that surprised me, and thought this was a good time to explore that.  
> Also, a huge thanks goes out to my incredible beta readers, Alex and Bri! This fic would be a lot worse without them lol


End file.
